A Christmas Affair

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Daisy Franklin leaned close to Maria. “We’d buy it from you wholesale, Maria, if you’d let us.” She glanced over at the six-foot-two post named Whitman and must have decided he wasn’t listening in. “Cut out the middleman, you see.”

Wes didn’t move or comment. He’d heard the sisters try this trick before. Maria’s jars might not bring in much income for him, but her product brought in customers. All it took was one jar and they stopped by for more every time they passed Crossroads.

“No, thank you, Miss Franklin,” Maria said as she carefully sipped her coffee. “I have an agreement with Wes. He buys all I can make and I sell only to Whitman Grocery.”

Wes smiled. She’d said his first name in front of someone. Like they were friends. They’d made a deal and she’d stuck to it.

Half the store was regular supplies, but the other half was specialty items, all locally grown or canned or baked or brewed. She’d walked in with her sister leading the way and asked if he wanted to stock her jellies. Wes couldn’t have said no even if he’d had to eat every jar.

Now folks stopped in to buy the small jars that had red bandannas tied with ribbons on the lids. Every week, Wes watched her stock empty off the shelf, counting down the days until she’d be back.

Rose Franklin frowned as she looked around his office. Two chairs. Walls lined with boxes and Wes standing at the door. “I understand if you two have some kind of private agreement, just between you.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ve had a few of those myself over the years.”

Neither Wes nor Maria looked up. Arguing with Rose was like fighting a case at the Supreme Court. You’d better be ready to brawl, or stay out of the court.

Wes saw Maria’s cheeks redden. Rose seemed to be hinting there might be more between them. Much as he wished there could be, he knew the chances were zero.

“Everyone who has your peach preserves on our famous nut bread at breakfast wants to buy both. If the bed-and-breakfast carried a stock of the preserves, it would save them a trip over here.” Rose straightened, prepared to wait it out for the answer she wanted. “You’d only up your sales.”

Wes stepped into the line of fire. “Now, Miss Franklin, I’ve heard of that homemade bread of yours. Folks say it’s straight from heaven. Have you ever thought of marketing it? I think it would be cute with both of you ladies’ pictures on the label. Franklin Sisters Famous Breads. I can see it on the shelf.”

Daisy clicked her tongue almost like a little drumroll. “Oh, no, no, we can’t do that. We’ve got far bigger irons in the fire.” She glanced at her sister for permission. With Rose’s slight nod, Daisy continued, “Rose and I have decided to open another business. What with the town growing, we’re going to become wedding planners. And though our first clients are keeping it a secret, we’re planning a huge wedding, bigger than this town has ever seen.”

Rose nodded. “Once we establish our name, folks from big cities like Amarillo or Lubbock, or even Abilene, can call us. We’ll put the wedding party up in the bed-and-breakfast, plan the wedding, bake the cake, and all they’ll have to do is show up.”

Daisy giggled. “It’s called a destination wedding.”

“Imagine that,” Wes said politely. He’d never thought of Crossroads as a destination, more like a potty stop where two highways crossed.

“That sounds grand, ladies. Let me know if I can help.” Wes considered asking how two ladies who’d never married had suddenly become experts on wedding planning, but he didn’t want to hurt their feelings.

Rose straightened. “Well, as a matter of fact, you can help. If you’d find a bride, we’d give you half off for being our first local customer. We could work you in before the big wedding in June.”

Both women laughed when Wes backed away.

“It’s all right, dear.” Daisy Franklin waved him back. “We know you’re like us, Mr. Whitman. Some folks just aren’t meant to ever marry.”

Wes was thankful when one of his employees stepped up with the sisters’ bags.

The Franklins waddled off and Maria handed him her empty cup. His time alone with her was over.

She moved away without a word.

Wes sat down in his office chair and turned his back to the door. He wished he could close off the world. He’d worked on being able to make small talk with customers. The weather. Sports. The local news. But it never came easy, and his mind didn’t seem to work fast enough to think of something witty to say to Maria.

A light tap came from the direction of his door.

Wes swiveled and looked up. “Yes?” was all he could think of to say.

Maria stepped back inside his office and, to his surprise, closed the door. “Would you mind if I stay longer?”

“No. Would you like more coffee?” He stood and knocked a stack of car part catalogs off the corner of his desk.

She moved to where he’d knelt, but made no attempt to help him pick them up. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were all right after what Miss Franklin said.” Her soft voice seemed to whisper through the cluttered room as she reached out and touched his shoulder.

He straightened and tossed the catalogs into the trash behind him. “I should have tossed these a long time ago.”

He didn’t move away. He just stared at her delicate hand sliding down his arm. “I’m all right,” he finally said, more surprised that she was worried about him than upset by anything Daisy could ever say.

Maria nodded. “Of course you are. Daisy Franklin didn’t mean anything. Her words get ahead of her brain sometimes.”

He sat on the corner of the desk so he could look at her face. “It was kind of you to worry about me.” He still towered over her.

He thought about touching her, maybe her cheek or covering her hand with his, but that might not be right. If he were another man he might ask her out, or kiss her cheek. Then he remembered what she’d come back for. It was time to settle the account. He needed to pay her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll write your check.” He sat down at his desk and opened his checkbook.

She remained at his side.

Dread settled like lead in his chest. She must have something to tell him, and if she closed the door it had to be bad. She was moving? Marrying? Selling out to the Franklin sisters?

He placed her check on the corner of the desk without looking at her and waited.

Swiveling in the chair, he started to stand. Maybe it would be all right to walk her out this time?

She took a step and placed her hand on his shoulder again, holding him down with her feather touch.

When he looked up at her, he saw her sunbeam smile just for him, and her fingers brushed his jaw.

Then she did the strangest thing. She leaned down and touched her lips to his.

He was so shocked, he didn’t move.

Straightening, she frowned at him, then kissed him again. Harder this time.

He reacted like a man waking up and finally kissed her back. A light kiss. An almost innocent kiss.

Then she stepped away as if the tidal wave that had just rolled over him was simply receding back into place.

“I’ll see you next week,” she said, as proper as ever.

“Yes,” he answered. He stood and awkwardly opened the door for her. “Hope you get home before the cold front comes in.”

She never turned back as she left the store, but quiet Maria Anne Davis had just changed his world.

Wes stood in his cluttered office and wondered how people sleep with strangers they meet at closing time and have more lovers then they can count. He didn’t even know how to talk to women anymore, or ask Maria out. He had no idea what to say but he was pretty sure a weather report wasn’t right.

But if she kissed him, she must like him.

If he did figure it out, she probably wouldn’t know how to answer, or they wouldn’t have anything to talk about on the date. Neither knew much about communicating.

He smiled. Maybe it didn’t matter. She’d kissed him. That was a start.

CHAPTER THREE (#u53f4161d-b6aa-5476-a870-1ec7fe712047)

TRAVIS WALKED INTO the county offices, thinking, How bad could this new home be? The three great-uncles probably had no clue about how to raise a kid. He barely remembered his father mentioning them, and if they were kin to his dad, they were probably drunks. New town, new house, same old problem. He’d still be on his own.

When the deputy motioned him into the sheriff’s office, Travis swallowed his gum apprehensively and stepped into his new life.

The three old men lining one wall were worse than he’d feared. One’s face was so wrinkled that at first Travis thought it was a mask. One was tall, real tall, and skeleton-thin. And the third looked like he was wearing pajamas.

The deputy smiled. “Travis, meet your nearest relatives.”

Travis thought of bolting, but it was like looking at the freaks at the circus. He was afraid to blink.

The wrinkled uncle grinned and removed his hat that said CAP. “Hello, son, I’m your Uncle Cap, Cap Fuller.”

“Of course you are.” Travis took his offered hand, wondering what the other two would be named—probably Slim and Crazy.

“We’re sorry about your folks,” Cap said, without letting go of Travis’s hand. “We’ll do the best we can for you while you’re here.”

The bony one took a long step like he was crossing a line in the sand and committing himself to sudden death. He removed his cowboy hat and nodded. “I’m Dice, Dice Fuller. You’re a fine-looking boy. How old are you, son?”

“Almost sixteen.”

“I would have guessed older, maybe seventeen. You got old eyes.” Dice looked him up and down as if there would be a test later. Height, weight, hair color.

Travis decided he liked the thin man—unless, of course, Dice was planning on frying him up for supper. He probably hadn’t had a meal in years.

The third uncle was chubby and looked like he’d spent way too much time staring at the refrigerator light. He didn’t speak, but he smiled at Travis like the criminally insane might. The guy had too many teeth to be normal and his lips looked like rubber bands pulled tightly between fat cheeks.

In fact, none of them seemed normal. That one point probably confirmed they were kin to him.

About the time Travis had decided to run, a uniformed man stepped into the room. The deputy straightened slightly.

The stranger, who had kind eyes, introduced himself as Sheriff Brigman. “I know this isn’t going to be easy on you, Travis, and I want you to remember that I’m right here if you need me.” He turned to the uncles. “You’ve all made changes to make this work.” He looked at Travis. “This won’t be like home, son, but if you give it a chance it won’t be so bad.”

Travis lowered his head, not wanting to say anything. The last time he saw the trailer he called home, there was trash everywhere, broken furniture and blood. Even the uncles’ place probably wasn’t that bad.

Cap shook the sheriff’s hand. “Thanks for your help, Dan. If you’ve no objection, we’d like to keep him out of school until the new year? Let him get used to the place and us. He’ll stay at Horace’s house with Dice at night, but they’ll drop him off at my place across the street on the days they’re working. Among the three of us, we’ll do our best to keep up with him.”

“You guys work?” Travis was shocked. They all looked old enough to be drawing Social Security checks.

Cap turned to him, talking slowly, as if there was a language barrier between them. “I retired from teaching several years ago, but I still help out at the retirement village. The manager needs my advice often. And as a former captain of the volunteer fire station, I’m called in to handle problems. I’ve even been known to work crowd control for the sheriff from time to time. It seems to be in my DNA to take charge in emergencies.”

Typical teacher. Ask him the time and you get a lecture on how the watch works.

“You ride, son?” skinny Dice Fuller asked.

“Horses?” Travis thought of yelling that he wasn’t any of their sons, but he’d save that tantrum for later. Four-to-one odds didn’t look so good.

“Yeah, horses. We don’t usually ride the cows.” Dice chuckled.

“Nope. Never had the chance, but I’ll give it a try.”

“I’ll teach you. A man oughta know how to ride.”

“How about drive? That’s important, too. I’ll be old enough to get my license next year.” Travis saw the first ray of hope. If these old guys would teach him to drive he wouldn’t have to run away; he could drive. Then he could really go places, live in his car, much safer than the streets. If he didn’t like the place he landed, he’d just drive away.

Dice leaned his head sideways, as if swashing water to brain cells he hadn’t bothered using for a while. “You learn to handle a horse and then we’ll take on a car. Fair enough.”

Travis smiled. “Fair enough.” This prison wasn’t going to be so bad. In three, maybe six months he’d learn all he needed to know and be driving out of here.

Free, he thought. And these three old guys would simply think they forgot where they put him.

CHAPTER FOUR (#u53f4161d-b6aa-5476-a870-1ec7fe712047)

ONE WEEK TO the day after Maria Anne Davis kissed Wes Whitman, she walked back into his store with her arms loaded down with boxes of jars. Wes rushed to help her and accidentally brushed her arm as he took half the load.

“Sorry,” he said, remembering she didn’t like help.

“That’s all right,” she answered with a shy smile.

Then she turned away as if he was no more than a stranger again. As if they hadn’t kissed. As if he hadn’t spent hours thinking of what he should have done.

He knew all about running a store; he’d learned from his father. He could make small talk with customers and stand back in crowds until he seemed invisible. Wes knew how to live an orderly life, but he had no idea what to do with Maria.